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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 2 months

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When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 1: Rings)

Well, it’s finally happened: I wrote a story for a movie rather than YouTube Egos. (Not that this is gonna become a regular thing, mind you. Lisa Frankenstein just so happened to check all the right boxes for my hyperfixation and brainrot.)

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him— just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his "true," pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belongs to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of electrocution and fire, scars, body horror, dismemberment. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The soil was loose and soft. It yielded to the shovel’s rusty spade quite easily.

Though many emotions were thrumming through Callum’s skull at the moment, surprise wasn’t one of them.

While dark clouds had clogged up the night sky, hiding the stars and moon and bloating with rain that would fall sooner or later, the current season was warm, and so the ground wasn’t too firm.

This plot had only been filled hours ago. This grave was fresh; infinitely fresher than his had been.

By now, Callum estimated that it’d taken at least half a day for him to crawl up through the ground and breach the surface like one of the several worms slithering around inside him.

He hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to consider it at first; back then, all he’d been able to know was light and electricity and shuddering and pain and. . .Lisa’s words.

Lisa’s words.

The same thing that fueled Callum to escape his tomb was now guiding him to free Lisa from hers, all with the same amount of violent tremors and desperation.

It was poetic, honestly.

Perhaps it would’ve been a bit more poetic if he didn’t have to get so filthy in the process.

Oh, well. He could take care of that later. (Besides, the stains on his clothes were nothing compared to the layers of grime and mold and fungus that had been caked all over him on that first, fateful night.)

Right now, unearthing his beloved without getting caught seemed like a much more important thing to focus on.

His grip was vicelike around the wooden handle as he threw one shovelful after another to the side.

Almost there, Callum thought. (If he could speak, he’d be repeating that mantra in a whisper like his life depended on it. Which. . .well, it logically didn’t, but it technically did. The same went for Lisa.) Almost there.

He’d wanted to take her away sooner. He would’ve been perfectly fine with forcing her family to waste money on a casket. Really, what good was a casket if you buried it empty?

But the distinct lack of a corpse would have just caused more problems. As dense as her family seemed to be, they’d still know that the shiny, glowing box (Lisa had called it a. . .tanning bed? If memory served?) wouldn’t have been capable of reducing a person to ashes no matter how dangerous it was.

He knew she wasn’t dead. Not completely; not truly. Yes, the combination of electrical currents and fire may have worked its horrific magic on her body. . .but that magic just hadn’t followed through altogether as it probably should have.

The way the bed had convinced foreign limbs to function as intended mere minutes after Lisa sewed them onto him. . .the way it had rejuvenated his centuries-dead flesh bit by bit. . .

It had some kind of similar effect on Lisa. The vast majority of her had died, but there was still a strong, stubborn ember of something in her that was very much determined to live.

Callum knew that very well. He’d seen proof of it before being forced to flee from the fire.

But Lisa’s family didn’t. As far as they knew, she was gone and never coming back. So, if she just disappeared before they could bury her, then they’d have an excuse to try and track her down. And if that happened, neither she nor her husband would get another chance. . .

Callum ground his jaw, putting even more force behind the shovel.

The hole grew deeper.

The pile of disturbed earth beside it grew bigger.

The dull, scraping tempo of grave-robbery began to sound like hitching gasps and sobs.

Just as the clouds started ominously humming about their plans for the night, the shovel reverberated after finally, finally, finally striking something much more solid than dirt.

Callum tossed the tool aside in favor of getting down on his knees, now using his hands to clear away a blanket of finer, thinner soil.

He hoped Lisa could hear him digging. (Though if that was the case, then the state of her brain could potentially make her think that the sounds were echoing from somewhere farther beneath her. Which would be. . .less than ideal, as Callum didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring her again. )

Even in his anxiety, he subconsciously shook his head. Lisa had taken him in and repaired him even after being initially terrified. Lisa trusted him, loved him; if she didn’t, then he never would have woken up in the first place.

More time passed, and a soft, cold gleam suddenly manifested in the darkness.

Glossy wood.

The coffin’s upper door.

Callum groped at the edge of it, tugging with all his strength.

An odd, warm feeling skittered up his spine and shook through his ribcage.

A low creeeeaaak rattled through the air as the lid was pried open.

. . .And there she was.

___

Callum had always been a fast learner, and yet he still had no idea what to make of his pulse.

It’d been extremely jarring when he’d first awoken. The days that followed, it was irregular. Sometimes he could feel it, sometimes he couldn’t. It was always soft—following more of a murmur than a steady beat—always irregular, barely there at all.

Right now, however, it both sounded and felt very far away. More present than it had been when he’d performed a highly unorthodox beheading on that stain of a man who’d upset Lisa.

Hell, it almost seemed louder and stronger than it had been on the most recent evening he’d spent with Lisa; the one that saw the two of them embracing and reeling and dreaming together. . .

Everything else was a blur as he brought her to her new bed, carrying her like the bride she was. He had to move slowly, carefully, feeling more anxious and unwieldy than ever.

Well, at least until he laid her down, making sure the pillow offered enough support for her neck.

After that, he was much, much more erratic.

He sprinted about the house, tearing almost every other room apart as he searched. It felt like several hours had passed by the time he finally found what he—what his beloved—needed: a white, sterile-looking container. He opened it, just to be certain, then tucked it under one arm and hurried back over to the bedroom.

Every square inch of Lisa’s body was blistered to hell and back, adorned by a network of puffy, angry-looking veins that, had her heart still been beating, would have more or less threatened to burst at any given moment. Red and raw, several sections on her arms, legs, and chest having peeled off to reveal glistening tissue.

Her mane of thick, curly auburn hair had been reduced to a few small, fried patches that clung to the charred flesh of her scalp with a strength similar to bubblegum and well-intentioned vibes. There was a possibility that she’d died with her eyes open, but the awful swelling of the skin around their sockets had sealed them shut.

None of that mattered, of course.

Lisa was still just as beautiful as when Callum had first met her. She always, always would be.

. . .Even so, those injuries had to be dealt with. Despite what Lisa had said before about accepting a person’s flaws, Callum’s instincts told him she wouldn’t appreciate being left to resemble a puppet made of half-raw-half-cooked steaks.

Callum set the medical kit down on the nightstand, ferreting out generous rolls of gauze as he loomed over the side of the bed.

The world finally seemed to slow back down as he got to work.

It didn’t take long for him to find a gentle, precise cadence as he wrapped bandage after bandage after bandage around his beloved’s form. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was what spiders felt like when they spun strands of silk together to make their webs.

Although Lisa’s skin hadn’t been rendered translucent, the burns in some places went deep enough for Callum to catch a glimpse of her organs. Both of her lungs were blackened, seared, sunken. Her heart was equally misshapen, now boasting a similar appearance to a blob of melted wax, looking like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself.

But even as all the carnage was swallowed up by more strips of gauze, Callum could still see the heart twitch. The movement only lasted for half a second or so, but there was no doubting that it’d happened. . .

Lisa still had a chance. She would never be truly alive again, but she could still come back.

She couldn’t wake up by herself. . .but she wouldn’t have to.

He’d find a way to help, just as she’d done for him.

Callum blinked for the first time all night, and his hands were suddenly free; he was suddenly sitting at the foot of the new bed.

Lisa was cloaked quite literally from head to toe in clean, snow-white bandages. It was like he'd made the perfect combination of shroud and wedding dress for her to wear.

The thought made a small smile tug at his lips.

Then he shook his head.

He couldn’t relax just yet. There were other things to be taken care of right now. Two other things, to be specific.

Callum got to his feet and crossed the new bedroom to quietly close the door. He ventured down a narrow hallway, peering at an assortment of unfamiliar pictures hanging on the walls around him. Disposing of them would probably be another chore for him later.

His footsteps sounded hollow and heavy as he descended the staircase. (Unlike Lisa’s former home, the floors of this house were all hardwood rather than carpet. True, they wouldn’t muffle noise very well, but it was still quite a lucky coincidence.)

He’d found this house completely by accident, when he’d still been trying to follow Lisa’s path.

Even with the remnants of that lightning bolt sparking in his stagnant blood, even with Lisa’s voice echoing through his resurrected mind, it’d still taken so much time for him to truly wake up. He grimaced at the thought of how long he’d had to crawl around the cemetery before he could stand upright.

(And that wasn’t even mentioning the state his vision had been in. The layers of rancid slime and dirt clinging to his face had made everything around him blurry and distorted. The fact that his eyes were also full of maggots at the time certainly hadn’t helped.)

He’d had to wander the surrounding woods for hours and hours before he could finally walk. The rot in his bones had kept his movement slow and uneven, but a bad limp was still better than collapsing every other moment.

Callum wasn’t sure how the house’s previous owners hadn’t seen or heard him that night. They certainly had a few hours ago, but that wasn’t a factor anymore.

He crept into the living room, where he paced a few slow circles around the fresh corpse lying in the center of all the controlled chaos. The crimson splatters now adorning the floor, the walls, the sofa’s floral print almost seemed to glitter.

Another carcass could be found just a few feet away, sprawled across the wide threshold that led into the dining room. The face was obscured, as blood was still leaking out to add to a large puddle that continued to slowly spread, inch-by-inch.

Callum folded his arms across his chest, drumming the nails of his replacement hand against his cheek. He remembered what Lisa had said when he’d silently begged her to help him find new parts; a contemplative murmur about there being bad people in the world. . .

Her relief and gratitude when he’d bludgeoned that horrible excuse for a mother to death.

Her cathartic happiness when he’d dismembered the scum who’d tried to put his filthy hands on her.

Her tearful joy when she eventually realized why he’d risked so much to take a particularly crucial piece from the ignoramus who’d dared to play with her emotions. . .

It had all been so wonderful to see.

Those victims had all hurt Lisa, and they likely would've hurt others as well. Their deaths wouldn’t be an actual loss to the community.

But this. . .

Lisa definitely wouldn’t have approved of this. Yes, she’d understand why Callum had done what he’d done; after everything they’d been through, of course the two of them needed a quiet place to stay, if only for a while until they found somewhere better. A place that was a fair distance from both the town and the cemetery. A place just like this.

But. . .

A raspy sigh escaped Callum’s lips.

He'd work with more tact in the future.

Once Lisa was awake, things would be better. He’d listen to her input. They would make important decisions together.

Callum’s eyes wandered about, eventually settling on the axe—the same one Lisa had taken from her father’s garage—he’d left propped up against the adjacent wall. It was slathered in gore, to the point that its wooden handle was just as red as the paint on its blade.

He approached to pick it up, letting the weapon’s belly rest on his shoulder. Then he stooped down, using his free hand to take hold of the first corpse’s wrists. More of the floor was painted red as he dragged it into the kitchen. He retraced his steps to collect the second body, coming dangerously close to slipping on the blood as he hefted his victim onto the countertop.

The next hour or so was filled with dull thuds, with splintery pops and cra-A-a-cks, with the drip-drip-drip of thick fluid oozing down the lower cabinets and plopping onto the floor.

The axe was too heavy to be the most precise tool, but it was still efficient. It only took a few good swings to sever limbs from torsos and heads from necks.

Callum couldn’t bury either of these bodies. Not right away, at least. Fortunately, he soon discovered that there were more than enough black trash bags under the sink to work with.

Lisa’s body obviously needed repair, but he wasn’t sure which repairs should come first. (He knew she’d require a new pair of eyes, but he didn’t want to risk forcing her current ones open just yet.) Would it be better to take off her old limbs and put new ones in their place, or to simply slice off layers of skin and attach a new barrier to her burnt flesh?

Wait and see, a voice in his head suggested. Callum nodded to himself; when Lisa was able to communicate again, he’d organize these plans with her. It was only right, after all.

Callum set the axe down by the sink, now focusing on wrapping up the detached pieces of human in tight, layered cocoons that crinkled with every second. Packing all the bundles into the freezer and refrigerator in a way that kept them from sliding right back out was far more aggravating than he would’ve cared to admit, but he managed.

He gave pause, however, when it came to the two remaining pieces.

A pair of forearms, to be specific, with their hands still attached.

One from each corpse.

Something small and metallic glinted around the fourth finger on each of them.

The first ring had a very simple design: just a smooth, golden band.

The second ring, meanwhile, was silver, mounted with a shiny stone.

It wasn’t a diamond by any means. Callum couldn’t tell what kind of gem it was, honestly. But it was gorgeous—it’d been carved into a smooth, perfect orb. It reminded him of an ember at the heart of a firepit, boasting a graceful mix of orange and red with a few soft hints of yellow.

The colors reminded him of that one night.

Callum shoved the forearms into hiding with all the other parts, the two rings now nestled in his palm. With that, he exited the kitchen, an unfamiliar spring in his step as he ventured back up the staircase. Yes, he still had an enormous bloody mess to clean up, but this took priority.

His odd, partial heartbeat echoed in his ears as he re-entered the new bedroom and knelt down beside the bed.

Slowly, delicately, Callum took one of Lisa’s hands in his. He pressed a small kiss to her bandaged knuckles before sliding the new ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly. Just like the gold ring did for him.

As for the odd-yet-sweet candy loop he’d made do with for the original proposal. . .well, he decided to leave it on the nightstand.

Just in case Lisa wanted to keep it when she woke up.

@mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @radisyn @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

#my writing #my stories #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein spoilers #the creature #lisa frankenstein creature #lisa swallows #lisa x creature #(my headcanon name for creature is callum)#(I just think it would fit him well)#tw implied murder/death #tw implied violence #tw gore/blood #tw mentions of electrocution and fire #tw scars #tw body horror #tw dismemberment

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saibug1022 · 3 days

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Ranking My MCs on How Likely They Would Be Adopted by Batman

Not a single person has ever asked for this. However, I have seen so much batfam stuff on my dash it's been living rent free

Val Ebony (ILITW) If you told me Val moved to Gotham and was a vigilante for a few years and then moved back right before ILITW I think I would believe you. This man has the whole package: dark hair (his hair is brown underneath all the dye), tragic backstory, shitty parents, even shittier bio dad who's also a villain, homicidal rage, he even died! But overall what got him to the top is just because of how well he fits with the Gotham and the Bats' vibes and aesthetics. Like it just feels right.

Eros Blackwell (Immortal Desires) Batman would have showed up in Crimson Beech to try to recruit Eros only for Eros to explain they do in fact still have a mom *who is on thin ice with me rn). However. They still get REALLY close, especially when they find out Gotham is on a ley line. I'm tempted to say Eros, Cas, and Gabe fuck off to Gotham after ID 2

August Rose (Crimes of Passion) So August's backstory is that they grow up most likely without their mom, and then their dad is mysteriously murdered. August tries to solve it themself but fails and instead becomes a detective to solve other crimes and hopefully find justice for other people. They're gruff, badass, and too damn clever. They were definitely Robin. Hell they could be Batman for all we know and it just wasn't mentioned in CoP

Magnus Bishop (Laws of Attraction/Into the Windverse) While slightly less likely only because he becomes a lawyer instead of some sort of detective or hero. However, he absolutely has the potential. His parents were murdered when he was young, he was tormented at school and betrayed by his friends, he was neglected by his foster mother and separated from his sister, all before he turns 18. He even gets super powers eventually. He has the determination, the ambition, and hell the whole reason he became a lawyer was to defend people from the systems that beat him down his whole life.

Asterin Nightbloom (BOLAS) I mean Asterin is pretty obvious, he's like the quintessential hero. Dead parents (twice), super skilled, heart of gold, etc etc. He's practically born to be a hero and I think he'd be such a good bat. Maybe not a Robin unless it's just for a few years before becoming his own hero

Leon Vance (It Lives Beneath) The main reason Leon is so high up is because he is so fucking capable. That's what the bats are known for among other heros. And of course there's his classic bat backstory. He's a badass, he unearths a CULT, has a cool and unique signature weapon, forms his own team and even has a super hero suit. Best part, he looks good the whole time.

Damian Stone (Murder at Homecoming) There's the obvious stuff like being a genius, a detective, unsolved mystery haunting the narrative, solving a murder, looking good doing it, socially awkward, etc etc, but I also have to add that I literally named them after Damian Wayne. In fact their name was originally gonna be Tim after Time Drake but Damian sounded better. However, they do suffer in the rankings seeing as they have both of their parents, both of which are also very good parents.

Callum Wayland (Hero) Listen, Callum would be a great DC hero but in terms of Batman relations I don't think he'd be adopted. Unfortunately for him the Super Family parallels are just too hard to ignore. However I could see him being a Bat's emotional support Super so they'd see each other a lot and I think Bruce would be begrudgingly fond of him when he finds out Callum punched a corrupt rich guy into the stratosphere.

Castor Athantis (It Lives Within) Castor has all the makings of a PHENOMENAL DC superhero but again I just don't see them as a bat. They have too much of a mystical connection. They're more likely to run ith someone like Constantine. I'm sure they'd be associated, I could definitely see Castor joining Justice League Dark, but that's it

Emrys (The Cursed Heart) Emrys will fight for people but it's not something they're really going to pursue. They have the backstory for it, don't get me wrong, but going out and punching bad guys just isn't really their thing. In a modern au they might be some sort of friend of Bruce's and a Batman ally but they wouldn't be a hero.

Julian Athantis (It Lives Within) Julian is just as good a candidate as Castor, down to mystical powers. But Julian would only be a hero to help Castor, if he was one at all. He just wouldn't have his heart in it. He'd show up, help other heroes, and I could definitely see his and Lincoln's apartment being open to be used as a safe house, but he just doesn't want to be a hero. Not as in he's just not interested, more as in he actively does not want to be a hero.

Taylor McKenzie (Endless Summer) Taylor is in a similar boat as Julian where he doesn't really want to be a hero. He'll show up to big planet-threatening shit but otherwise he just wants to go to college and love his friends and husband. I could see the Justice League, Batman especially, keeping tabs on him so they'd know each other but that's about it. More likely Taylor would just go create problems for Dr. Fate when he's bored and then go back to minding his business.

Apollo Solaris (The Elementalists) Apollo really fits the hero archetype. However. I think if he stepped foot in Gotham city he'd explode. Or maybe Gotham would. They just clash so severely that even if he did meet Batman for whatever reason they'd hate each other.

Mattheo Lazarin (Bloodbound) Listen. Mattheo has enough on his plate being the Bloodkeeper and dealing with vampire shit. He doesn't have time to care or be a hero.

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